lunes, 6 de abril de 2015

Poetry: David Herbert Lawrence - Whales Weep Not! - The Ship of Death - The End - Links to more DHL








Whales Weep Not!

They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.

All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of
the sea!

And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep bed of the sea,
as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and
comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's
fathomless body.

And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the
wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and
forth,
keep passing, archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the
sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.

And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-
tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of
the beginning and the end.

And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!

and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea. 





 The Ship of Death by David Herbert Lawrence

I

Now it is autumn and the falling fruit
and the long journey towards oblivion.

The apples falling like great drops of dew
to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.

And it is time to go, to bid farewell
to one's own self, and find an exit
from the fallen self.

II

Have you built your ship of death, O have you?
O build your ship of death, for you will need it.

The grim frost is at hand, when the apples will fall
thick, almost thundrous, on the hardened earth.

And death is on the air like a smell of ashes!
Ah! can't you smell it?
And in the bruised body, the frightened soul
finds itself shrinking, wincing from the cold
that blows upon it through the orifices.

III

And can a man his own quietus make
with a bare bodkin?

With daggers, bodkins, bullets, man can make
a bruise or break of exit for his life;
but is that a quietus, O tell me, is it quietus?

Surely not so! for how could murder, even self-murder
ever a quietus make?

IV

O let us talk of quiet that we know,
that we can know, the deep and lovely quiet
of a strong heart at peace!

How can we this, our own quietus, make?

V

Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.

And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.

Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised,
already our souls are oozing through the exit
of the cruel bruise.

Already the dark and endless ocean of the end
is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,
Already the flood is upon us.

Oh build your ship of death, your little ark
and furnish it with food, with little cakes, and wine
for the dark flight down oblivion.

VI

Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul
has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.

We are dying, we are dying, we are all of us dying
and nothing will stay the death-flood rising within us
and soon it will rise on the world, on the outside world.

We are dying, we are dying, piecemeal our bodies are dying
and our strength leaves us,
and our soul cowers naked in the dark rain over the flood,
cowering in the last branches of the tree of our life.

VII

We are dying, we are dying, so all we can do
is now to be willing to die, and to build the ship
of death to carry the soul on the longest journey.

A little ship, with oars and food
and little dishes, and all accoutrements
fitting and ready for the departing soul.

Now launch the small ship, now as the body dies
and life departs, launch out, the fragile soul
in the fragile ship of courage, the ark of faith
with its store of food and little cooking pans
and change of clothes,
upon the flood's black waste
upon the waters of the end
upon the sea of death, where still we sail
darkly, for we cannot steer, and have no port.

There is no port, there is nowhere to go
only the deepening blackness darkening still
blacker upon the soundless, ungurgling flood
darkness at one with darkness, up and down
and sideways utterly dark, so there is no direction any more
and the little ship is there; yet she is gone.
She is not seen, for there is nothing to see her by.
She is gone! gone! and yet
somewhere she is there.
Nowhere!

VIII

And everything is gone, the body is gone
completely under, gone, entirely gone.
The upper darkness is heavy as the lower,
between them the little ship
is gone

It is the end, it is oblivion.

IX

And yet out of eternity a thread
separates itself on the blackness,
a horizontal thread
that fumes a little with pallor upon the dark.

Is it illusion? or does the pallor fume
A little higher?
Ah wait, wait, for there's the dawn
the cruel dawn of coming back to life
out of oblivion

Wait, wait, the little ship
drifting, beneath the deathly ashy grey
of a flood-dawn.

Wait, wait! even so, a flush of yellow
and strangely, O chilled wan soul, a flush of rose.

A flush of rose, and the whole thing starts again.

X

The flood subsides, and the body, like a worn sea-shell
emerges strange and lovely.
And the little ship wings home, faltering and lapsing
on the pink flood,
and the frail soul steps out, into the house again
filling the heart with peace.

Swings the heart renewed with peace
even of oblivion.

Oh build your ship of death. Oh build it!
for you will need it.
For the voyage of oblivion awaits you. 




 The End

If I could have put you in my heart,
If but I could have wrapped you in myself,
How glad I should have been!
And now the chart
Of memory unrolls again to me
The course of our journey here, before we had to part.

And oh, that you had never, never been
Some of your selves, my love, that some
Of your several faces I had never seen!
And still they come before me, and they go,
And I cry aloud in the moments that intervene.

And oh, my love, as I rock for you to-night,
And have not any longer any hope
To heal the suffering, or make requite
For all your life of asking and despair,
I own that some of me is dead to-night.









Poetry: David Herbert Lawrence - Whales Weep Not! - The Ship of Death - The End - Links to more DHL




Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook
 
Blogs of The Solitary Dog:
solitary dog sculptor:
http://byricardomarcenaro.blogspot.com
Solitary Dog Sculptor I:
http://byricardomarcenaroi.blogspot.com



Para comunicarse conmigo:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com
For contact me:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com



My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

Thanks :)

Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

Gracias :)




Painter: Renoir Pierre-Auguste - Part 53 - 27 paints - Links to precedent parts






Pierre-August Renoir - Catulle Mendez


Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Monet (The Reader)


Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Monet Painting in His Garden at Argenteuil


Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Monet Painting


Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Monet Reading


Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Renoir 


Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Renoir 


Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Renoir and Renee

Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Renoir in Clown Costume (The Clown)


Pierre-August Renoir - Claude Renoir Painting


Pierre-August Renoir - The Cup of Chocolate


Pierre-August Renoir - The Embroiderer


Pierre-August Renoir - The Fish Monger


 Pierre-August Renoir - The Swing


Pierre-August Renoir - The Thinker

 
Pierre-August Renoir - The Umbrella


Pierre-August Renoir - The White Pierrot (Jean Renoir)


Pierre-August Renoir - Tilla Durieux


Pierre-August Renoir - Vera Sertine Renoir


Pierre-August Renoir - Victor Chocquet


Pierre-August Renoir - Victor Chocquet


Pierre-August Renoir - Woman in a White Hat


Pierre-August Renoir - Woman in an Interior


Pierre-August Renoir - Woman in Blue in a Landscape


Pierre-August Renoir - Woman in Blue


Pierre-August Renoir - Woman Leaning on Her Elbow


Pierre-August Renoir - Woman Reading






Links





Painter: Renoir Pierre-Auguste - Part 53 - 27 paints - Links to precedent parts




Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook
 
Blogs of The Solitary Dog:
solitary dog sculptor:
http://byricardomarcenaro.blogspot.com
Solitary Dog Sculptor I:
http://byricardomarcenaroi.blogspot.com



Para comunicarse conmigo:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com
For contact me:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com



My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

Thanks :)

Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

Gracias :)




Music: Ray LaMontagne - One Lonesome Saddle - Hold You In My Arms - Lyrics - Links to more RLM








video

Ray LaMontagne - Down To The River Album - One Lonesome Saddle


well we rode into town like a couple of fools
high on the mezcal, bent low on my mule
i's just trying to find some place where a man might find some rest
wash the tears from my eyes and the blood from my vest

one lonesome saddle
one long and lonesome ride
one lonely cowboy
pining a woman unkind

walked into the saloon on my feet that felt like lead
cold steel hammer pounding into the back of my head
i raise up my glass to the quick and to the dead
saying hey he ain't heavy and a bottle of red

one lonesome saddle
one long and lonesome ride
one lonely cowboy
pining a woman unkind

as the glass it left my lips, i felt her hand upon me
her smile it was so warm but her eyes were so cold
she says to me now, "won't you please walk beside me"
i just shut my mouth and i did as i was told

one lonesome saddle
one long and lonesome ride
one lonely cowboy
pining a woman, cold-hearted woman
pining a woman unkind





video


Ray LaMontagne - Till The Sun Turns Black



Can you see the young and pretty
Confident as cops
Blooming, laughing in the shops
Till the sun turns black

Can you see the old and lonely
Walking through the park
Pushing grocery carts
Till the sun turns black

Can you see the corporate man
He's winning on the telephone
His possessions are his throne
Till the sun turns black

Can you see him in his lounger
Watching TV in the dark
Waiting for a spark
Till the sun turns black

Oh oh oh oh oh
Who are we
Oh oh oh oh oh
Who are we
Who are we

Can you see the working classes
Trudging through their days
Time goes slowly when you're only waiting
Till the sun turns black

Can you see the wise man simply
Living, loving quietly
Every breath he takes eternity
Till the sun turns black






Music: Ray LaMontagne - One Lonesome Saddle - Hold You In My Arms - Lyrics - Links to more RLM




Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook
 
Blogs of The Solitary Dog:
solitary dog sculptor:
http://byricardomarcenaro.blogspot.com
Solitary Dog Sculptor I:
http://byricardomarcenaroi.blogspot.com



Para comunicarse conmigo:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com
For contact me:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com



My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

Thanks :)

Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

Gracias :)